


as they sung

by fresh96



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ancient Greek Religion & Lore Fusion, Inspired by Hades and Persephone (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), M/M, Referenced Death, eventual polyamory, probably more later who knows, referenced tense situations
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-13 11:13:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29775306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fresh96/pseuds/fresh96
Summary: 'It seems too good to be true, like he’s entered a utopia. Maybe he has, compared to where he he’s been in the past. I must be dreaming, he thinks, there’s nowhere like this that I’ve ever seen. If I’m dreaming, I guess I don’t have anywhere to be. The flowers curl around him as he lays back down, arm cushioning his head. Just one more minute of rest won’t make any difference.'
Relationships: Choi San/Jeong Yunho, Choi San/Jeong Yunho/Park Seonghwa, Choi San/Park Seonghwa, Jeong Yunho/Park Seonghwa
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	as they sung

**Author's Note:**

  * For [néohs (bangin_patchouli)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bangin_patchouli/gifts).



When San wakes up, all he sees is light. Well, not light exactly, his eyes are closed, but its bright like mid-afternoon sun in the summertime and the air is pleasantly cool to his skin. Around him, bugs hum their mid-afternoon noises, and birds sing harmoniously, their voices crisscrossing the sky as they flit about. When he does finally open his eyes, which is after a good long while, he’s greeted by bright blue skies above, and fluffy white clouds, unmoving on the horizon despite the breeze. The breeze is lovely as well, slightly sweet and very gentle as it moves around him, hugging him like a soft fleece. There are flowers all around him in yellows and pinks, dancing in time with the birds and breeze. It seems too good to be true, like he’s entered a utopia. Maybe he has, compared to where he he’s been in the past. _I must be dreaming_ , he thinks, _there’s nowhere like this that I’ve ever seen. If I’m dreaming, I guess I don’t have anywhere to be._ The flowers curl around him as he lays back down, arm cushioning his head. Just one more minute of rest won’t make any difference.

When he wakes again, he’s still in the field of flowers. It was the chirrup of crickets that woke him this time, and the cool shadow of the cliff behind him drifting over his skin. The orientation of the sun on the horizon tells San that it should be dusk, but the fields around him are still brightly illuminated; there’s no haze or sunset like dusk should bring. Just a bright ball ghosting over the horizon. _I can’t still be dreaming… Can I?_ San is no stranger to reoccurring dreams, but he’s never dreamt a dream that… well for starters the dream is exactly the same as he’d left it earlier. The flowers are lovely and bright and full of life, and the birds are singing happily, and the wind _smells_ the same. He’s never picked up on smells before in dreams either. It’s extremely vivid, to the point that San has to wonder whether it’s a dream at all. Maybe drug fueled? That doesn’t sound right either, San doesn’t really do drugs (anymore).

If it’s not a dream, then it has to be real. Those are the only two states of being. Real and dream. That means this would have to be real. The problem with _that_ is that San is experiencing it like a dream. Despite the clarity of, well, everything, there’s a magical quality to everything around him, like it’s had the saturation turned up. Everything around him looks like it’s been posted to Instagram by an influencer who wants people to think that ‘the water really is that blue!’ Besides that, San has no idea how he got here either. He remembers meeting Wooyoung for dinner after work, and laughing over on of Wooyoung’s students, and he remembers starting the journey home, and after that… after that, nothing. That kind of memory dysfunction doesn’t happen unless you’re dreaming or have had a traumatic brain injury, and San doubts it’s the latter considering he’s not plugged into god knows how many IVs at the moment. _How can this be real?_

Just as San’s thoughts verge into panic, a gentle voice sounds from beside him. “There’s a third option, you know.”

San’s head whips left at the intrusion. Sitting there is an absolutely stunning man, roughly San’s age, seated in the flowers near him, hand idly stroking over their petals. If San didn’t know any better, he’d swear that the flowers grow more radiant with each touch, but he does know better. “Excuse me?”

“That’s the first thing people think when they get here, in my experience. ‘Is it real? Is it a dream?’,” the man shakes his hands for emphasis, “Some even think they’re on drugs…” San coughs and looks away. The man returns to caressing flowers. “They must be good drugs if they could create a world like this, don’t you think?”

“I guess so.”

“You guess so?” The man breaks into a bout of dreamy giggles, lips pulling tight across his teeth, not that San is looking. “You’re funny.”

San puts on his most charming smile. “Thanks. My friends think so too.”

“Do they? That’s good news then. I would hate for anyone to live here without a sense of humor.”

They lapse into silence. The sun still crests over the horizon, bottom edge only barely dipping behind the line of sight, but it’s moved farther North now. _Definitely a dream then_. The wind changes directions with the sun, this time carrying a savory aroma like grilled meat. If he squints, San thinks he can see a town just before the horizon. Maybe he should visit there before the dream is over. It seems welcoming enough here, he can’t imagine that the people in this dream aren’t as kind as the scenery and his companion are.

“It’s beautiful isn’t it?” The man says into the quiet air around them, lifting one hand to catch an errant butterfly, “I try to keep it this way. I am not all powerful, so things slip by sometimes, but I think I’ve done well here.”

“This is your land then? Did you plant all these flowers?”

“You might say that.”

“That sounds like hard work.”

“Sometimes it’s brow beating,” the man furrows his brow intently, but relaxes after a moment like he remembered something beautiful, “but it’s all worth it.” The man stands up and brushes off his pants before extending a hand. “Follow me, San.”

_Definitely a dream._ “Okay.”

San follows the stranger out of the field of flowers and onto a dirt path. Despite being unpaved, the path is extremely well maintained with little piles of stones marking the boundary every so often. The stranger doesn’t speak, but keeps his hands clasped behind his back as he strolls, glancing back occasionally as if to check that San is still there. As if he could be anywhere else. This is his dream after all. Eventually the path comes to a grove of olive trees, within which the path veers off in several directions.

“Keep up please, the trees here will try to detain you for longer than necessary.” The man murmurs to San lowly and is not entirely successful at keeping some sort of ominous insinuation out of his voice. The grove of trees is still bright, and the trees are cheerful and silvery, but San scoots a little closer to his apparent host anyway. He’d rather keep the nightmares to a minimum.

Beyond the grove, San and the stranger arrive at a glistening marble pavilion on the edge of a river. Sconces adorn several pillars within the pavilion, and they are all lit, despite the bright daylight. At the far end, the one that touches the river, stairs descend into the water, above which sits a little boat.

“Please, hop on.” The stranger gestures to the little boat lightly, but before San can move, the other man grips his arm. When San moves to yank his arm away, the grip only tightens, and San is startled to find no hint of humor or calm in the other man’s eyes. “Be careful of the water wont you? Not a drop on your person.”

“Sure dude. Whatever.” San shakes him off, and tries to shake off the feeling of dread, but he can’t quite manage it. It hovers around his shoulders like a warning or a curse. The man has been courteous and calm so far, but something tells San now that he isn’t always that way, and San would rather not have this dream turn into a nightmare. They’re silent as the cross the river, the other man pushing along the bottom with a pole not unlike a gondolier, and as much as San aches to touch the glistening water, he doesn’t. By the time they reach the other side, the sun is high in the sky again. It looks huge in the empty sky, but amazingly gives off only a fraction of the heat this kind of endless sunshine would give off in real life. The man helps San off the boat, careful to keep San clear of the water, and though he tries to hide it, San can see that the man himself stands in the water during the process.

“Where are we going, exactly?” San queries as they set off again onto another extremely well-maintained path. He receives no answer. Only a quick over-the-shoulder glance, and a slightly slowed step. “What did you mean earlier? What’s the third option.”

The other man’s feet slow again, less purposefully this time, like he hadn’t expected San to remember. “We are going home.”

When he finishes speaking, the stranger’s head turns around front decidedly, and San, again, decides not to push his luck. This new area they’ve come to is more forested than before, but no less bright and magical as the rest. Here, boulders peek out of the ground around gnarled tree roots, and rodents scurry across the path in front of San’s companion. They watch as San and the stranger pass, almost reverently, before blending back into the underbrush behind them. The rocks are covered with fluffy green moss that San delights in running his hands over, collecting dew on the tips of his fingers reverently. This is exactly the type of place San loves to come with a thick book, or a problem that has been bothering him and just sit. San spots a mud hut in the distance, nestled in a grove of thick trees near the edge of the forested area. Beyond that is another field of flowers, this one seemingly unending in expanse, hills rolling over one another like waves.

San’s companion stops in front of the hut, and gestures proudly at the building. “Here we are.”

“Which is where, exactly?”

“Home.”

“Who’s home?”

The other man sighs. “You’re a stubborn one, aren’t you? Just come inside, I will explain then.”

Whatever San is expecting when he opens the seemingly ramshackle door to the quaint bud hut, what he finds is _not it_. The interior, mysteriously, is an exact carbon copy of his apartment, down to the scratches in his kitchen floor that looks suspiciously like “JW WUZ HERE.” The lights are all functioning, and the water works, and the toilet flushes, and his fish are right there, bobbing about happily in their tank. The stranger makes himself at home on San’s couch, eyes scrunched in a content smile as he watches San zoom from room to room inspecting the craftsmanship.

When San exhausts himself, the other man pats the couch beside him. “Come sit San.”

“I can’t believe how detailed this dream is.” San sighs as he sinks into the couch, jolting when he feels the broken spring poking his back, “I’ve never had a dream this vivid before.”

“Do you remember what you asked before? While we were walking?” The man’s voice is low, reverent, and San relaxes further into it.

“Yeah.”

“This is the third option. How did you get here?”

“We walked. A really long way. My feet are killing me.”

“Before that. Do you remember how you came to be in my field?”

“Well, that’s the kicker isn’t it? I don’t remember. I would say this is real, but I don’t remember getting here, so it has to be a dream, right? It’s too bad. I would have loved to meet you in real life.”

“Think harder. How did you get here?”

San sighs again, and closes his eyes, willing the emptiness of his mind to conjure a memory that isn’t there.

“I had dinner with Wooyoung, that’s my best friend, last night. We went to a new steakhouse he’s been hounding me to try. I got lost like five times on the way there because I’m not as familiar with that area of town as he is. Plus, I had to park really far away.”

“And then what?” The man’s voice takes on the same quality as the bubbler in San’s fish tank, gritty and low but still soft enough that San could fall asleep to it.

“Um… Wooyoung told me all about his students and the pranks they played on him today. He’s a dance teacher, really good. The kids love him.” A bird chirps once outside, and then stops.

“When you left dinner?”

“We walked back to our cars by ourselves. We parked in different areas. We hugged goodbye at the door and mad plans for this weekend.” San’s heart pounds once and to San it feels like a plea.

“When you were walking back to your car?”

“I don’t know! I don’t know!” San’s eyes burst open, and he jumps off the couch, heart jarring a little in his chest despite the tame nature of his memories. “That’s what I’m telling you! This is a dream. I don’t know how I got here.”

“You do know. I can tell from the look in your eyes and the pounding of your heart that you know.” The man smiles sadly then, kindly, and gestures around him. “You know what this is.”

“I don’t!” San insists. He startles as his back hits the wall, unaware that he’d been moving in the first place. The other man’s presence in the room is suffocating now, and while not entirely unpleasant, San feels like he can’t catch a breath. All at once it’s like the feeling of first breathing ocean air after spending weeks in the desert and like the smell of smog after an interlude in the fresh air of the mountains. “I don’t know. Don’t make me remember. _Please._ ”

“Okay,” the man says, “I won’t. I will tell you instead.” San’s breath catches again. “You were walking back to your car after dinner and heard a scuffle in an alley. You were scared by what you heard, but you’re a good man and couldn’t leave well enough alone. You saw three men attacking one woman. One of them had a knife. You intervened.”

San barely trusts his voice. His blood feels like ice in his veins and he’s breathing like he just ran a mile. “And?”

“You didn’t survive the encounter.”

**Author's Note:**

> hi everyone :) 
> 
> while this is loosely inspired by both actual greek mythology and assassins creed (dont leave yet), there will be no assassining or creeding (probably) and realistically was only inspired by the aesthetics of the fields of elysium in game. I will otherwise attempt to be true to lore when I'm not writing plot related things but no promises on accuracy.  
> also I will try to finish this one (for real). it should be cute if all goes as planned.  
> Please come harass me on twitter (@DYKET33Z I'm on private right now because I kept getting dmca strikes and it was freaking me out but feel free to like follow or whatever because im still technically open for business) 
> 
> otherwise, please say nice things in the comments or mention grammatical errors if you must or just scream. comments sustain me. xx (gifted to néohs as always mwah darling)
> 
> oh wait btw the title is from John Milton's Comus, line 256 (I gave up on that naming it after classical music thing)


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